


all stories must be told

by Cherrakinn



Series: Cherry's Originals [3]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrakinn/pseuds/Cherrakinn
Summary: There is always a story. There may well be many beginnings of the same one.
Series: Cherry's Originals [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517135





	all stories must be told

The crowd gathered in the courtyard was quiet, though no crowd can truly be silent. The king spoke. He told of plans for war, a journey for his greatest warriors and knights to go on, to chase after savage foes who threatened the kingdom. A quest for the bravest of souls, one that people would tell tales of for ages to come. A great honor it would be, of course, to go and slay such horrible foes. To ensure the safety of the kingdom and it's children.

In the shadow of the castle walls, the woman stood with hardened eyes and an embroidered cloak draped over her shoulders. The design told a story all its own, though it was a tale that no one had yet heard. As the king spoke she stepped forward, her steps bringing her only ever closer to the stage on which royalty sat. The cloak seemed to shimmer in the light of the sun, reflecting colors of all kinds off of gleaming patches of the design. Without a word, she began to ascend the steps.

On the steps of the stage, the young guard sweltered in the harsh sun, warming the armor that both he and his partner donned. Listening to the king came second, as protecting him must come first. Even as the heat became tortuous, they did not falter. When a stranger in gleaming hues stepped forward, the guards moved to block their path, spears in hand.

From the crowd, an elder man gazed on. The king's words meant little to him, as he knew this man and his hunger for fame, for land. For glory and riches. The sunlight tested his weary vision and the murmurs of the crowd simply flowed over him, never able to pick out words. The movement of the guards drew his gaze, and the sight of a shimmering cloak brought memories of years past. A young girl had once visited his home in the valleys wearing such a cloak, bringing tales of great winged beasts with breath of fire and hearts of gold.

In the distant forest, a scaly head rose to the sky. The sun reflected easily off golden scales, and the distant sound of deer brought a rumble to their stomach. Ignoring their hunger, they lumbered to their feet, claws scraping against the gray stone of the cavern entrance. With a simple shake, their wings unfurled and in moments, they were soaring among the clouds of a bright sky. The call was strong this day, and with a few lazy beats of their wings they began the easy, gliding journey towards the castle rising on the horizon.

Deep in the caves of the earth, the spirits of the passed stirred. They made way for the passing deity donned in a torn and tattered cloak, wielding nothing but a simple basket. They made way, and made space, for very soon, they would need it. The rising of the gods could only mean one thing; soon, the ever-growing army of those who passed would be welcoming new recruits.


End file.
